


A Lot Like Winning

by eeyore9990



Series: 30 Thankful Days [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Fluff, High School, High School Student Derek, Take Charge Lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:17:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5193674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s high school career is trudging along apace until Lydia Martin decides to take charge of it and shake it – and him – up. </p><p>--</p><p>A Dydia HS AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lot Like Winning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aweekofsaturdays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aweekofsaturdays/gifts).



> 30 Thankful Days, Day 11: Gift for AWeekofSaturdays

Derek had his history text open in front of him as he shoveled food into his mouth, eyes glancing frantically at the clock on the wall that was creeping closer and closer to the end of his lunch period. And closer and closer to the history test he'd _completely forgotten about_. When, the next time he glanced at the clock, his eyeline was interrupted by a really nice pair of breasts, Derek choked on his mouthful of food. 

"Derek," a calm, clear voice said, just before _Lydia Martin_ sat down across from him, her eyebrows arched as she waited for him to recover. She eventually sighed and stood, her small hand coming down firmly between his shoulders, obviously not content to allow him to clear the food from his esophagus on his own. "Better?" 

With one final wheeze of breath, Derek blinked the unconscious tears from his eyes and nodded. "Thanks," he muttered, and if it sounded like a question, that was all her fault. 

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Lydia accepted his gratitude with a regal nod before opening a plain black journal. "What does your schedule look like for the next two weeks?" she asked, pulling a purple pen from her purse and pointing the tip at the page. When he didn't rush to tell her, she looked back up at him, lips twisting into a frown. "Well?" 

But Derek couldn't think past the confusion swamping him -- a confusion that not even the panic over his test could compete with. "What? I mean… what?" 

Setting her pen down, Lydia folded her fingers together with a long-suffering sigh. "Your schedule. If I'm going to make you junior class president, we've got some work to do. So what does your schedule look like?" The emphasis she placed on each word of the question made Derek huff in irritation. 

"I have basketball but… class president? I'm not even _running_ for class president. And why do you care, anyway? You're _already_ sophomore class president, or will be when the votes come in. No one's even stupid enough to run against you." 

Lydia's smile was sharp, her eyes glowing with satisfaction. "Yes. But that's part of the problem," she sighed, picking up her pen and tapping it rhythmically against the table. "Nothing is a challenge anymore. Which is why I'm going to turn _you_ , Derek Hale, into the most famous boy at Beacon Hills High." 

Derek sat back, irritation turning into the first flare of anger. "Look, just because I'm not some queen bee flittering around here doesn't mean I'm not--" 

"I'm well aware of your popularity," Lydia cut in with a cool voice. "But being captain of the basketball team and a member of the Spanish club aren't going to be enough to get you into an Ivy League school. You need more on your resume." 

Derek gaped at her, trying to find words in the shock-empty recesses of his brain, when the bell rang. He was still staring after her like an idiot when Boyd nudged his shoulder and reminded him of class. 

Shit! Class! 

Derek gathered up his history book and quickly dumped his tray before racing through the halls to class, hoping he'd have time to cram a few more dates in his head before the final bell rang. 

\-- 

Stepping out of the shower after basketball practice, Derek idly wrapped a dry towel around his waist and grabbed another one to rub haphazardly against his head. If he'd been paying attention, he'd have noticed how _quiet_ it was in the locker room. Unfortunately, he was still thinking about practice and how Lahey had seemed to be limping a little on his right leg, so when he turned down the bank of lockers where his was located, he shouted in alarm at seeing Lydia Martin standing there, tapping her toe impatiently as the rest of the basketball team stared at the ground, most of them in some state of undress. 

And of course he couldn't just shout to express his surprise. No, he went one further and threw his towel at her. Thankfully, it was the towel he'd been drying his hair with and _not_ the one trying to unwind from his waist. Grabbing it quickly, he whisper-shrieked, "What are you _doing_ in here? This is the boys' locker room!" He darted quick glances toward Coach's office, hoping like hell he didn't noticed how eerily silent the locker room was and decide to come investigate. 

"I'm here to discuss your social calendar, of course," she said, then blew out her breath in a puff of irritation and turned her head to spear Ennis with a cold look. "Do we have a problem?" 

Ennis sneered at her and opened his mouth to say something, but one look from Derek had Boyd grabbing Ennis with a hand around his mouth and dragging him out of the immediate area. 

"My social calendar," Derek said then, dragging his hand through his still-wet hair and wondering when he'd lost control of his life. 

Oh right, at lunch. 

"Look. Lydia. I'm sure you mean well and all, but--" Lydia tilted her head, and Derek had grown up around enough deadly women to know exactly what that sort of head tilt meant for him if he said another word, so he very smartly shut his mouth. His teeth might have clacked together. 

It was only a little embarrassing. 

"Wednesdays and Fridays," he said in a rush. "I'm free on Wednesday and Friday afternoons, after practice." 

Lydia straightened, bouncing slightly so that her skirt flirted around her thighs. Not that he was looking or anything. He just… had great peripheral awareness. Yeah. 

"Excellent!" she said, beaming at him like he'd just given her an expensive piece of jewelry. "I'll expect you to meet me at my house tomorrow at 6:30." And though she hadn't reached into her bag, she was suddenly handing him a card. Like a business card, but it had her personal contact information on it and _what high schooler had something like that?!_ "Do be sure to call me if you'll be late. I don't like to be kept waiting." 

Derek, still stuck staring at the card, just bobbed his head and listened as her heels clacked through the locker room as she let herself out. 

"So…" Aidan said, shutting his locker with a bang that made every guy in the room jump in shock. "You and Lydia Martin, huh?" 

Derek just rolled his eyes and reached up, smacking Aidan's head into the closed door of his locker, setting the world to rights once more. 

\-- 

Derek managed to forget, right up until the door swung open with Mrs Martin on the other side of it, that Lydia's mom was a substitute teacher at the school. Feeling a flush spreading across his cheeks, Derek ducked his head and squeaked a little when he said in a rush, "Hi, I'm here to see Lydia." 

"Oh, go right up, sweetheart. She was expecting you." 

Derek wiped his feet on the outside mat, then stepped in onto another mat and wiped them again because what the hell else was he supposed to do. And then he took his shoes off for good measure, because the carpet lining the stairs of the Martin's _mansion_ was pure white. He wasn't a normally clumsy guy, but he could feel his hands trembling with his own sudden fear of dropping something on that carpet. 

And then, because Mrs Martin was still looking at him expectantly, Derek quirked half a smile at her and went up the stairs, looking into open doorways until he heard soft music coming from one near the end of the hallway. When he got closer, he could hear muttering coming from within the room, muttering that sounded vaguely menacing, so he actually tiptoed the rest of the way, a little afraid of what he'd find when he saw Lydia. 

All he saw, though, was Lydia laying on her stomach on her bed, her feet kicking in the air above her, a skirt much like the one she'd been wearing the day before rucked up a little until he could see the very edge of her satin panties. Derek jerked his gaze away from that danger zone, a hot blush making the very tips of his ears feel like they were burning. 

"Derek," Lydia greeted him, not even looking up from the poster she was dragging a marker across. "I'm sure I told you to call if you would be late." 

Derek blinked at her, then looked past her to the glowing numbers on her clock. _6:34pm_ glared back at him. 

"I uh, I was here on time? I just, you know, your room is upstairs and… What are you doing?" Derek rolled his eyes at himself since she wasn't looking at him. This stammering idiot he became when she spoke to him wasn't _him_ , and he was getting a little tired of feeling two steps behind the girl who'd decided to start calling the shots in his life. 

"Making a poster for your campaign for class president, of course." She pulled backward and looked up at him, eyebrow arched as she waited for him to comment on her handiwork. 

_Derek Hale is President of my heart!_ the sign proclaimed in purple and pink with red hearts. 

"That's… wow. I." Derek tilted his head, eyes squinting. "That's a bit, uh, enthusiastic for you, isn't it?" 

Lydia shrugged lightly, tone matter of fact as she said, "The demographics for your class suggest that more than half the girls have at least a little crush on you. We should take advantage of that." 

"I know I've asked you this before," Derek said, pulling her desk chair closer to the bed, "but why… Why are you doing this?" 

Snapping the cap back on the marker with a finality that sent shivers through him, Lydia tossed it to the side and sat up, looking at him with a shrewd expression. "You're captain of the basketball team. You have the third highest grade point average in your class, which isn't actually so much a testament to your study skills as it is a sad statement about the rest of your class. However, being third in your class is something we can work with. And if you add a few extras to your resume--" 

"They're applications, really, not resumes," Derek muttered, eyes flicking briefly to her pink lips as she pursed them in irritation. 

"Think of them as a resume because the university you attend will determine your entire future." 

"And you somehow care whether or not I get into a good school." Shaking his head, Derek slouched back in his chair. "Why?" 

"Because," she said lightly, lowering her lashes and looking at him through them in a way that made his pulse race, "I'll be attending MIT and I want my boyfriend on the same side of the country as me, if not in the same school. I was thinking Harvard for you. It's only four minutes from MIT according to Google Maps. Plus, they have a wonderful architecture program." 

"Boyfriend?" Derek asked, blinking. Then, "Wait, how did you know I want to study architecture?" 

Lydia's long suffering look was really a bit much, honestly. Like he was supposed to know a girl he'd never exchanged more than head nods of recognition across the grocery store with before this week was interested enough in him to… do _any_ of this. 

"I do my research, Derek. When I want something, I study it inside and out before I go for it." 

"And you want… me. Why?" He somehow didn't think it had anything to do with the way he looked or his family's popularity in their little town. 

"You're smart, you're focused when you want something, and you know better than to argue with me." Lydia ticked off the points on her fingers, then pushed herself up until she was sitting up, her bare heels pressed into her ass and her hands braced on her knees. "You aren't a bully, nor are you threatened by smart or powerful women. I plan to make my mark on this school and, beyond that, the world. I don't want someone at my side who's going to tell me to sit down and shut up." 

The corner of Derek's lip quirked up. "So because I'm not a bully, you decided to bully me into running for class president?" 

Lydia scoffed and tossed her hair. " _Someone_ needed to give you a push. You were growing far too complacent. Now, come here. I have a plan to ensure you make salutatorian before you graduate." 

Settling gingerly on the bed beside her, Derek lifted an eyebrow. "What, not valedictorian?" 

A soft, pitying smile spread across Lydia's lips before she leaned forward kissed him softly. Shocked, he didn't respond until she pulled back and murmured, "Sorry, darling, but Julia Baccari has that wrapped up, and I'm not helping you displace a bright young woman to further your male ego." 

Growling in irritation, he knocked her back to her bed and pressed his own kiss on her… which went on long enough to almost make him forget what they'd been talking about when she enthusiastically returned it. But he _did_ remember, which was why he leaned up on one elbow, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of her laying there, hair spread across her pillows, before he said, "You're not going to win every time, you know. I'm going to win sometimes too." 

"Aww, it's cute that you think that," she said, full-on grinning at him, something that looked a little like relief shining in her green eyes. "Now, let me up. I was thinking… class president is good, but if you add prom king to it…" 

Derek groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder. He foresaw a long, torturous future ahead of him, with him tripping along in her wake. But then he pressed a kiss to her neck and let her up to outline her plan because he realized… it wasn't actually the worst thing he could imagine. 

And it made him feel a little smug because this felt a lot like winning. 


End file.
